


Smokescreen

by SunriseSeaMonster



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Discovery of Sexuality, Eventual Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, I feel bad for leaving y’all hanging on that one relationship tag, Implied Sexual Content, Introspection, M/M, SO much introspection holy crap, Slow Burn, Tension, actually no I decided to add it but read to see how it unfolds I guess, but I’m feeling stubborn about this, sehyoon-centric, the new tag and summary updates now sound very "fic author in crisis" and I can't stop laughing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25985200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseSeaMonster/pseuds/SunriseSeaMonster
Summary: "There’s an obvious solution here, a way to keep people’s attention off you two while you figure out whatever it is that needs figuring out.”  Chan pauses for a moment, then looks directly at Sehyoon. “Lots of Choice already ship Kwan and Sehyoon. Why not just… lean into that ship, likereallylay it on thick?"_____A.C.E members decide to push the Wowkwan agenda as a cover for Junhee and Byeongkwan, who really are sleeping together.  Things get... complicated.[Note: for whatever reason Ao3 autocorrects Sehyoon-centric to lowercase... maybe it's getting lost in the tags or something.  SEHYOON.  THIS IS ABOUT SEHYOON.  TY for coming to my TED talk]
Relationships: Kim Byeongkwan & Kim Sehyoon | Wow, Kim Byeongkwan/Park Junhee | Jun, Kim Sehyoon | Wow/Lee Donghun
Comments: 21
Kudos: 89





	Smokescreen

It’s Channie who suggests the plan, because of course it is. Sehyoon’s surprise level: zero. 

Sure, Junhee is the group leader, and Byeongkwan is the not-so-secret mastermind of the group, but Chan has always kept the clearest head. He’s bright and steady and… well, neutral, maybe, in a way the others can’t be. 

Of course, it’s possible that their long-suffering maknae is just fed up with his hyungs. Sehyoon wouldn’t blame him. How many times now have Junhee and Byeongkwan been caught “showering” together, while Sehyoon and Donghun stifle their giggles – even recording the sound to their phones, outside the bathroom door? Too many, probably. Inevitably, those evenings, Chan shakes his head at his hyungs from the other end of the corridor and stays out of it.

Over and over again, he stays out of it. Until, one night, he doesn’t. 

They’ve all been reunited, briefly, after their respective stints on reality shows. Ironically, Chan could simply choose to stay quiet just a little while longer, knowing he’s about to leave them again, on loan to UNB. Junhee and Byeongkwan will have a bedroom to themselves, then, hopefully leaving the bathroom a much safer place for the eldest two members of the group. 

Still, reflects Sehyoon, it _had_ been rather amusing when Byeongkwan asked their managers for a fluffier bathroom mat. “My feet get cold after I bathe,” he’d said, catlike eyes wide and innocent, while Junhee’s face flushed cherry red and the others choked back laughter. The request definitely had nothing to do with protecting Kwannie’s knees. Oh, no. Cold feet, for sure. 

At any rate, it’s tonight that Chan decides to speak up, as they all hover around chicken and tteokbokki, relishing each other’s company as a restored group of five. 

“So… I’m pretty sure none of us care what you do together,” he says, addressing Junhee and Byeongkwan. His tone is steady and surprisingly respectful, given the topic at hand. “But I’m guessing it would freak everyone out if people figured out that you two were hooking up. Which would then freak both of you out, too. Right?” 

For one brief moment, in the ensuing silence, Sehyoon thinks Byeongkwan and Junhee are going to play dumb. But then Junhee sighs, clears his throat and says, “Right. What are you getting at, Channie?” 

Chan shrugs, glances down at his plate, then looks back up. “I think we can do better than just hoping people don’t figure it out. We’re _A.C.E!_ We can do better than that.” 

“We?” asks Donghun, exchanging a skeptical glance with Sehyoon. 

“Well,” Chan hesitates. “We’re a family, a team, right? There’s an obvious solution here, a way to keep people’s attention off you two while you figure out whatever it is that needs figuring out.” He pauses for a moment, then looks directly at Sehyoon. “Lots of Choice already ship Kwan and Sehyoon. Why not just… lean into that ship, like _really_ lay it on thick? Fans love ships – fans love _love_ – and they’re not going to stop speculating about romance. So why not take control of that situation? Why not just feed into Wowson?” Chan turns toward Byeongkwan. “Or whatever they’re gonna call it once you announce you’re dropping Jason as a stage name… Anyway, yeah. Fight fire with fire, I say. This would throw everyone totally off the scent.” 

Donghun makes a face. “Gross, I don’t want to think about any of your scents.” 

Junhee’s sudden laugh breaks a bit of the tension. He shoves Donghun in the arm, and soon they’re all laughing alongside him. 

They settle into a slightly more comfortable silence, eating their chicken and tteokbokki. 

Still, Sehyoon’s mind is whirling as he meets Byeongkwan’s eyes. He swallows a bite of his food, then speaks. “I don’t mind people thinking I’m gay. But… how is it better for people to think Kwannie is in a relationship with me rather than Junhee?” 

It’s Byeongkwan’s turn to chime in. “Okay, first of all, we’re not dating. We’re just fucking.” The corners of his mouth edge suspiciously toward a smirk.

Junhee’s hands fly to his face, and he squawks unintelligibly. He’s probably hyperventilating with embarrassment, suspects Sehyoon.

“But anyway,” continues Byeongkwan, “It would feel worse, somehow – more invasive and personal, maybe – for people to know the truth. Think about it, hyung. When kids at school called you some random insult that had no basis, it didn’t matter, right? But when there’s even a kernel of truth, it can hurt.” 

Sehyoon nods. That makes sense. 

Junhee seems to have calmed himself a bit, but when he speaks, his breathing is still a little uneven. “And it might be worse in people’s eyes since I’m the group leader. In theory, anyway.” 

For once, the others don’t pile on the teasing, instead murmuring reassurances that Junhee is doing an excellent job as leader.

There’s a moment of quiet as they all look at Sehyoon. He looks at their questioning faces and realizes he already knew his answer the instant Chan suggested it. “I’m in. If it helps you – if it helps _us_ , as a group – I’m in.”

Donghun sets his plate on the low table, then addresses his roommate. “But Sehni… would you really be okay with everyone thinking you’re gay? Chan is right that lots of fans already ship you two together. I can’t imagine how crazy things would get if you two played into this even more. I think what Chan is suggesting goes way beyond the normal levels of fan service.” 

Sehyoon considers this before answering. “Well, I can’t _know_ how I’ll feel about something until it happens. But in theory… it’s fine. I can’t say I’m supportive of the queer community, say that I’m an ally, and then go, _Oh, but it would be so terrible for people to think I’m gay._ Because it wouldn’t be terrible. It would be inaccurate, sure, but not terrible. I mean, honestly… who cares? I guess if I were looking to date anybody, it would be an issue. But I’m not.” He shrugs. “I think it’ll be fine.” 

Byeongkwan cocks his head, looking at his fellow dancer. “I know you don’t say things lightly, but… just to confirm, I don’t do things by halves.” 

Sehyoon smiles. “Oh, I’m aware.” 

“This basically means that when in public, you would _be_ my love interest, as best as I can commit to the idea. Which is, not to be cocky, but I can _commit_ to a performance.” 

Sehyoon leans forward. “Kwannie… give me some credit. I also can commit to a performance. Fully, totally. I can embody this role. I get what you’re saying, and I agree. For it to be believable, there’s no gray area. We’d have to do our best to believe it, moment to moment, whenever we’re in public.” He nods, as much to himself as Byeongkwan. “I can do this. _We_ can do this.” 

Donghun turns to Junhee. “How would you feel about this? Would it be weird seeing them get all coupled up, constantly? We have a ton of appearances coming up.” 

“You mean would I get jealous?” Junhee waits for Donghun to nod before continuing. “Nah. As Kwannie put it, we’re not dating, just… errr…” 

“Fucking,” fills in Chan, and his unexpected contribution sets them all laughing again. 

“Honestly, I’d be thankful for anything that diverts that kind of attention from me. I feel a bit guilty asking you to do this, Sehyoon.” 

Sehyoon smiles at Junhee. “I dunno. I don’t mind a challenge. Could be fun, right?” 

And just like that, it’s settled. Project Wowson – or, as Sehyoon has already mentally rebranded it, Project Wowkwan – is a go. 

As they clean up their dinner, Sehyoon once more thinks to himself, _Could be fun._

Hell, they want him to act like he’s got the hots for Byeongkwan? Fine. That boy is going to be courted like a motherfucking princess. 

Sehyoon bumps into Byeongkwan in the narrow corridor, as they’re all getting ready for bed. “No, no, after you,” he says. “I’m trying to win your heart, right?” 

Chan, trying to get past both of them, says, “Y’all are already too cute. Ugh, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” He laughs, his trademark golden voice bubbling in amusement. 

Byeongkwan keeps his face entirely deadpan as he responds. “I can’t help it that Sehyoon-hyung knows how I deserve to be treated. Dating me is a privilege.” 

Sehyoon laughs. He wouldn’t trade Byeongkwan for the world. This really will be fun. 

Donghun closes the door behind him as he enters the bedroom he shares with Sehyoon. He seems to consider something, then solemnly declares, “And here I thought Channie was just going to ask them to stay away from his bed while he’s gone.” 

Sehyoon’s laughter blends with Donghun’s, their voices softening into giggles. Their room is quiet for a moment as Donghun turns out the light, then climbs into his bed. “Sehni?” he finally asks, voice unusually gentle in the dark. 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you really okay with this? What if it works too well, and you can never take it back? Once people think you’re gay, that’s a reputation that’s hard to shake.” 

“Anybody I want to date should take my word above anybody else’s, in regards to my sexuality.” He turns to his side, drawing his blanket up under his chin. “And I meant what I said. If it helps the group – and I think it might – I’ll do it. We’ve been through so much already. This is just one more challenge, and at least it’s a novel one.”

“You’re too nice to them.” Donghun is smiling; Sehyoon can hear it in his voice. It’s a nice smile, he thinks, warm and familiar to him even here, in the dark. It occurs to him that throughout the whole evening, it’s been Donghun checking to make sure everybody really is okay with Chan’s hare-brained idea.

Sehyoon feels an inner bubbling of affection and gratitude for his roommate, then sinks quickly and deeply into a dreamless sleep. 

_____ 

The group flies first to Japan, then to Brazil, for a series of shows and fan events. It’s there, on the other side of the world, that Sehyoon realizes just how easy this is going to be – how easy it already is. There’s a reason so many fans already ship him with Byeongkwan; their rapport is phenomenal. When the Brazilian fans put together a game of charades, Sehyoon feels a fluttering thrill at the way they read each other’s cues instantly, near-perfectly. Dinosaur? Airplane? Beyonce?! Not a problem. They’re not psychic, but given how quickly they communicate these diverse clues to each other, they might as well be.

It’s not new, this synchronicity, but Sehyoon finds himself hyper-aware of the dynamic now. He and Byeongkwan frequently find themselves on the same wavelength, caught in their own little bubble, and it’s delightfully easy to just do what Chan suggested – to lean into it.

In the gate at the airport, waiting to board their flight home, a sleepy-eyed Byeongkwan pats Sehyoon’s thigh for probably the hundredth time on the trip. Sehyoon relaxes against the squeaky airport chair. Byeongkwan’s touch feels organic. It feels natural. It feels real, and it feels _good,_ Sehyoon realizes. He’s pretty sure Byeongkwan isn’t even aware of doing it, half the time; by this point, it’s become a habit. In turn, Sehyoon’s hand frequently finds the other dancer’s shoulder or arm, affectionately squeezing the surprising degree of muscle through the thin fabric of Byeongkwan’s shirts. He does so now, gently palming his hand against Byeongkwan’s shoulder, feeling Byeongkwan melt into his own chair under Sehyoon’s touch.

Maybe it’s just the weariness of traveling and jet lag, but Sehyoon’s mind wanders places he hasn’t before known it to go.

 _Touching a boy’s shoulder is no different from touching a girl’s shoulder. Or maybe it is – this one is more muscular than the girls’ shoulders I’ve touched – but it’s definitely not worse. It’s pleasant. At least, it’s pleasant when it’s Kwannie’s shoulder. I wonder what touching the rest of Byeongkwan would be like._

Startled by this thought, Sehyoon’s first instinct is to snap his gaze toward Junhee, as if the leader might somehow hear Sehyoon’s inner thoughts, wondering about touching Byeongkwan’s body.

Junhee is asleep, though, slumped rather less than gracefully in his chair. Donghun, sitting next to him, catches Sehyoon’s startled glance and looks at him curiously. 

Not wanting to wake Junhee, and _definitely_ not wanting to explain what made him jump, Sehyoon just shrugs sheepishly. 

Donghun slowly grins – a subtle, warm, lopsided grin. Logically, Sehyoon knows that his thoughts are private, but part of him still feels unnerved, as though Donghun’s grin just confirms that everyone around him knows. 

Knows… knows what?

Sehyoon is saved from this line of increasingly concerning thinking by the overhead announcement that their flight will start boarding. 

He finds himself walking next to Donghun down the jetway onto the airplane. His mind still a bit off-kilter, he leans to his side and quietly asks, “Do you ever think that maybe you don’t know yourself at all, but the rest of the world does?”

Donghun blinks at him, shifts his tickets from one hand to the other. “No. It’s more the opposite, like maybe I know who I am, but nobody else does.” 

“You don’t think I know who you are?” asks Sehyoon. 

Donghun stops and looks at him long enough that a space grows between them and the passengers in front of them. Sehyoon nudges his elbow, and Donghun starts walking – and talking – again. “I think you do a pretty good job, but no. Going back to your question, though –” 

They pause to greet the flight attendants as they step onto the plane. 

“– I don’t think that I truly understand who you are, Sehni, not really. So if you’re not sure yourself, it looks like you’re a totally mysterious, uncharted territory.” He pauses for a moment, lifting his carry-on suitcase into an overhead compartment and grunting at the effort needed to squeeze it into the space. “You’re good at drawing, though. Once you’ve figured it out, draw me a map, okay?” 

Sehyoon smiles, hoisting his own bag into the compartment. “Yeah. Okay.” 

It’s a fun way to think about it. Opportunity, not fear.

_____ 

Back in Korea, Project Wowkwan continues with ever-increasing success. It becomes a game they all enjoy, Sehyoon thinks, like a group secret binding them together.

Neither Sehyoon nor Byeongkwan feel the need to come up with specific, deceptive details, at least not usually. A.C.E participate in a weekly radio program, learning English and generally having fun on-air. In a rare instance of advance planning for Project Wowkwan, Sehyoon comes up with the idea to wear matching shirts every week. Fans quickly catch onto the weekly “couple’s shirts,” and even the radio show host comments on their closeness. 

“Why is he touching him?” the host giggles at one point, as Sehyoon pats down Byeongkwan. _Because of Project Wowkwan,_ says one part of Sehyoon’s brain. _Because it’s fun,_ says another.

In general, couple’s shirts aside, Sehyoon and Byeongkwan stick to doing exactly what they decided. They simply put themselves constantly in a couple-ish state of mind, letting their interpersonal chemistry do the work for them. On live broadcasts, they flirt shamelessly, insist on sitting next to each other, and touch each other as much as possible. 

When Sehyoon stops to think about it, he realizes having this performance challenge – this all-encompassing commitment to a persona – actually makes interacting with the public easier, not harder. He’s naturally an introvert, and he’s occasionally struggled with fan interactions. Live broadcasts have been especially difficult, as he wonders what the hell he’s supposed to be doing or saying. Now, he has an objective, and that objective is: focus on Kwannie, completely. The clarity of purpose feels like a relief, not a burden.

After Chan’s duties with UNB have begun, the remaining four members of the group film a video for _Take Me Higher_ , their new comeback. It’s a vibrant track with a bright, colorful aesthetic to match. Early in the process, the director of the video notices Sehyoon and Byeongkwan’s chemistry and changes the filming plans to better highlight them as a pair. This has the side effect of pairing Junhee closely with Donghun for their own shots, thus doubly distracting fans or staff from any suspicious energies floating between Byeongkwan and Junhee. 

It’s there, on the _Take Me Higher_ set, standing next to Byeongkwan and lobbing colorful balls at Donghun and Junhee’s faces, that Sehyoon suddenly wonders… what _are_ the energies between Byeongkwan and Junhee, these days? A few months have passed since Chan’s suggestion, and honestly, Sehyoon has no idea what’s going on. Are they still fucking? Surely if they weren’t, Byeongkwan would back off Project Wowkwan, and that’s not happening. But… are they?

He almost asks Byeongkwan that night, at home. But just as he’s about to knock on the door to Byeongkwan and Junhee’s room, he hears enough to know the answer to his question, without asking. Unbelievable that they would still have energy after the long day of filming, but the evidence is undeniable. He lowers his hand away from the door and goes to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

As he’s brushing his teeth, Sehyoon wonders how long those two will stay in the gray area of fooling around without dating – and realizes he’s not sure what he wants the answer to be. 

Donghun is already in bed when Sehyoon gets to their room. He turns off the light and crawls into his bed as quietly as he can, although he can tell from the sound of his breathing that Donghun is still awake. He waits several minutes before speaking, voice soft in the quiet, dark room. “Donghun?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you think they’re going to like… be _together_ together at any point?” 

Donghun doesn’t ask him who he means. As the seconds of silence tick by, Sehyoon wonders whether his roommate has drifted to sleep. But then Donghun’s somewhat tentative voice finally says, “I don’t think so, but I think they’re both too dependent on the sex to stop any time soon.” 

“Dependent? Like, addicted? Or just horny or whatever?” 

Donghun hums thoughtfully. “I don’t really know, maybe like stress relief, mostly? That and the sexual tension, just… yeah. I have no idea, though. You know… this is all pretty much off the top of my head. I guess I don’t think about it as much as you do. Although, I do find myself wondering whether –” his voice catches in hesitation, “Do you still… umm.” Sehyoon waits, not wanting to interrupt. Donghun’s voice drops lower. “Is it still an act?” 

Sehyoon is glad to be lying down in the dark; he feels the blood rearranging itself in his body, face growing hot and cold at the same time. “What do you mean?” 

“It’s just… very convincing, sometimes, Sehni.” 

“You think Kwannie and I are an item, like, more than friends?” 

“No, no,” Donghun says in a rush. “I know you’re not. Just… I wonder whether you or he would like to be.” 

“No,” says Sehyoon, too quickly. “I’m straight.” 

“Okay,” says Donghun. 

The silence that follows feels increasingly claustrophobic. Sehyoon clears his throat, trying to shake the feeling. He knows what he _wants_ to ask, suddenly finding it unbelievable that he’s never really asked before. “Are you?” he hears himself say it out loud. 

“Am I what?” asks Donghun’s voice, thick with sleep. Oh. _Damn._ He really was falling asleep. Well, too bad. 

“Straight.” 

“No,” answers Donghun, without hesitation. 

It’s Sehyoon’s turn to simply say, “Okay.”

A cloak of sleep quickly pulls him under in a swirl of dreams, hazy and unsettling. His dreams are nothing Sehyoon could pin down or describe when he wakes up the next morning – morning wood aching, head disoriented, emotions tangled.

_____ 

Late in the summer, Sehyoon and Byeongkwan go to lunch at a café near their dorm. Despite the ease and consistency of Project Wowkwan, the energy between them today is distinctly, unmistakably platonic. It might be the gloomy, gray weather – or the fatigue that comes from knowing their agency is experiencing delays yet again in planning a comeback for the group. Either way, Sehyoon is just not into the flirtiness today, and neither, to his relief, is Byeongkwan. 

They chat about dance cover ideas as they eat, and Sehyoon decides he’s missed this: simply enjoying Kwannie’s company as a friend and colleague. The other dancer is so in tune with Sehyoon’s own professional and artistic side that nerding out about dancing together feels nearly as fun as actually performing alongside him. This feels refreshing. 

They take their drinks to-go and chat as they walk back, taking a quieter, longer detour home. 

Just as Sehyoon is about to bring up another dance idea, Byeongkwan suddenly says, seemingly at random, “I don’t know what to do about Junhee.” 

Sehyoon sips at his coffee, unsure how to respond. “How do you mean?” he finally asks. 

“I think… we always said no feelings, no attachment. But at some point, it hit me, like… he and I are exclusive, even if it’s just because of logistics. I haven’t slept with anybody else in almost a year.” 

Sehyoon does some quick mental math. “Wait, who did you sleep with a year ago?” 

“Do you really want to know?” Byeongkwan’s face is amused. “I thought you’d be grossed out about it.” 

Sehyoon grins at Byeongkwan. “Listen, I’m not asking for a blow-by-blow playback of the experience. I’m just curious who it was.” 

“Choi Hyunsuk.” 

“Seriously?” During their reality show filming?! Sehyoon remembers hearing about a few contestant hookups, but he had no idea any of the A.C.E members were involved in it. 

Byeongkwan shrugs. “I mean, whatever – Junhee was busy hooking up with Rayoon on The Unit. In fact, this perfectly demonstrates my point. Both Junhee and I have been able to just… keep sex and emotions separate, in the past. But now, I just… I worry. Like, is he getting attached? I mean, I love him – I love all of you. But not… not like that.” 

“You’re not in love, you mean.” 

“God, no.” 

“Do you think he is?” 

Byeongkwan looks thoughtful. “No, that’s probably going too far. But… I think he’s getting attached, maybe? More than me, at any rate.” 

“Do you think… Could you ever become attached? I think it’s pretty rare for two people to feel exactly the same way about each other, at every stage of their relationship. Maybe you could like…” 

“Catch up?” Byeongkwan finishes. 

“Yeah. Catch up.” 

“No.” Byeongkwan shakes his head, confident and calm in his answer. “If I wanted love, companionship, and sex from the same person, I would have seduced you ages ago.” 

Sehyoon chokes a little on his iced coffee. 

Byeongkwan, unbothered, continues. “I have no desire for a romantic relationship. Probably not ever. With anyone. It’s just not for me.” He sighs. “Well, never say never, I guess. But right now, the answer is a hard NO. And with Junhee… yeah, I worry.” 

“Okay, so why don’t you stop the sex part of it? I mean, you’re right – months of hooking up all the time, sleeping in the same room… things are bound to get complicated.” 

Byeongkwan scrunches his nose, expression somewhere between a pout and a laugh. “But he’s such a good fuck…”

“Yahhh!” Sehyoon laughs and skips a few steps away. “Didn’t want to know that! Didn’t want to know that at all.” 

Byeongkwan throws his empty drink cup into a trash can, then rejoins Sehyoon.

“Not to make this about me…” begins Sehyoon. 

“But?” 

“But what makes you think I would have taken to your seduction, or whatever? You and every other gay guy I know has some sort of ‘Don’t hit on straight boys’ mantra.” 

Byeongkwan looks at him as though this were a ridiculous question, eyebrows skeptical in the extreme. “Are you really straight?” 

Sehyoon is about to say, “Of course!” – but something stops him. Literally stops him; he freezes, unable to walk or talk, suddenly. 

“Thought so,” says Byeongkwan, voice easy and gentle. He walks on, leaving Sehyoon standing on the sidewalk, trying to wrap his mind around his own thoughts. 

_____ 

Sehyoon can’t say when it happens, exactly, but Byeongkwan and Junhee’s hookups do eventually decrease – or maybe even stop altogether. He’s not sure of the details, but by the time the A.C.E members embark on an extensive world tour, later that year, they’ve definitely cooled off the sexier aspects of their relationship. 

Chan is back with the rest of A.C.E throughout the tour, and his steady, upbeat personality grounds them all. Sehyoon wonders whether Donghun was right; maybe Byeongkwan and Junhee find some stress relief in sex. It’s not a crazy idea, and it would explain why they’ve simmered it down now that Channie is back. 

At any rate, now that the reason for its existence has dissipated, Sehyoon supposes Project Wowkwan might simmer down, too. 

It doesn’t. 

Byeongkwan and Sehyoon continue to find reasons to touch – to flirt – to express affection. They keep it up in public, sure, but also in private, the boundaries between the two worlds long since smeared into oblivion.

Sehyoon figures it’s just reflex, by this point. Their world tour is so busy and extensive that there’s no time to sit down and reassess any changes to their current approach.

One night before a show, as his hand lingers on the small of Byeongkwan’s back, Sehyoon’s eyes find Junhee, looking at them. Junhee’s expression is unusual – his eyes unfocused, as if he’s only partially in the room. He doesn’t look jealous at all, not that Sehyoon can tell, but rather… pensive, somehow, as if seeing Wowkwan in action has triggered some hidden, inner thought. 

Before Sehyoon can decide whether to ask Junhee about it, they’re called to the stage, and all of his introspective thoughts are obliterated by the need to turn off Sehyoon and turn on Wow. His introspection can wait. 

After the show, Sehyoon lingers in the shower, feeling even more spent than usual. He leans against the tile as the water runs over his skin, hoping to feel the emotional exhaustion washing off him, swirling away into the drain beneath his feet.

Is this exhaustion… about Project Wowkwan? It might be about Project Wowkwan. 

Here, tonight, in the heat of the shower and in the post-show haze, just thinking about it depletes all of Sehyoon’s remaining energy.

They’d all wondered – Donghun had asked – whether Sehyoon could handle the public’s assumptions and feelings when they ramped up the Wowkwan vibes. Nobody in the group, however, including Sehyoon, had thought to ask whether he could handle his own assumptions and feelings. 

And, he admits to himself now, breathing in the steam as deeply as possible, his own assumptions and feelings keep shifting. About Byeongkwan, about himself, about his sexuality.

It feels like he’s missing something – something else entirely – but he’s just too tired to dig around within himself for what it might be. 

He turns off the hot water, towels himself dry, and stumbles off to bed.

_____ 

Sometimes Sehyoon thinks that the biggest Wowkwan shippers are his own management team. Beat Interactive is unusually responsive and interactive with fans, and they know: Wowkwan sells. 

So it doesn’t come as a surprise when, before they’re even back in Seoul, the group’s management asks Sehyoon and Byeongkwan whether they’d be comfortable incorporating an even more blatantly suggestive moment into the choreography for their upcoming title track: _Under Cover._

The Beat Interactive managers have gathered the members of the group into a small hotel meeting room to discuss this and other plans. As soon as the question of the choreography is in the air, Byeongkwan says, “Yes. Absolutely.” 

Everyone looks to Sehyoon. He looks at them, looks at Byeongkwan, and nods. “Yeah. Okay.” They seem to be waiting for more, so he adds, “The fans will love it. I’d say that their wish is my command, but I guess it’s more like Kwannie’s wish being my command, now, isn’t it?” 

Everybody chuckles. The management team is right; the fans are going to eat this up. The A.C.E dancers’ chemistry is a goldmine.

Sehyoon feels a small wave of pride. As a group, they’ve pushed all sorts of boundaries their whole professional lives. This decision is just an extension of that. It takes a skill Sehyoon has been practicing daily now, for almost a year – namely, loving up on Kwannie – and pushes it beyond canoodling on live broadcasts or flirting at media appearances, just as a smokescreen. This is Wowkwan as a concept, exercised in a serious, professional sense. It feels a little like coming full circle. Performance… to habit… back to performance. 

And Sehyoon feels suddenly relieved to have a frame of reference – a guiding purpose – for Project Wowkwan again. 

Until this discussion, in the cramped hotel meeting room, he hadn’t put together how much he might need to feel a _reason_ for the way he acts around Byeongkwan. 

They are dismissed from the meeting, and he stands in the hotel lobby, next to a floral display, suddenly awash with realization. _Yes,_ yes, he can admit to himself now that he’s been questioning whether he has any true romantic or sexual feelings for Kwannie. And just as emphatically, he knows: _No,_ no, he does not. If it’s not to help out his friends and groupmates, or as a professional act of fan service, he simply wouldn’t behave the way he does around Byeongkwan. 

He braces one hand against the base of the floral display as he lets himself – for the first time – accept a third, firm conclusion: _Yes,_ he is queer, and part of what has made Project Wowkwan feel so natural, despite his misgivings, is that intimate affection with a man is _awesome._

Just… maybe not this particular man. 

His mind spins so fast that he nearly leans into the floral display. 

Junhee sees Sehyoon from across the lobby and sprints back to his side. “Hyung!” His eyes are wide, concern evident. “Are you okay? Have you eaten?” 

“Yeah,” says Sehyoon. “I’ve eaten. Sorry, I just…” How to explain? How to possibly explain? He doesn’t finish the sentence.

Junhee offers him his arm. “We’re off tonight. Let’s get you to bed – get some rest, Sehni-hyung. I know we’ve been busy.” 

Sehyoon accepts Junhee’s offer of assistance to his room, not wanting to explain that it’s far more than rest that his brain needs. 

When Donghun silently joins him in bed, wrapping his arm around his side, Sehyoon thinks to himself, _Okay._

He’ll figure it all out later, but for now: _Okay._

_____ 

Maybe being gay – or bi – or queer, or… or _something_ , whatever this is – maybe this doesn’t have to change anything. It’s not like any of the members of A.C.E have time for anything other than working, eating, and spending every waking minute with each other. 

That’s why Kwannie and Junhee started fucking in the first place, after all. 

It’s probably pointless even stressing about this. 

Sehyoon has his work, and that’s it. End of story.

_____

The A.C.E members may have thought the fans’ Wowkwan shipping was extreme already, but the release of Under Cover and its near-kiss choreographic moment sends the fandom into total, chaotic overdrive.

Sehyoon loves it. _Loves_ it. The boundaries between reality and artifice are clearer than ever to him. The old distinctions between public and private Wowkwan may have blurred, never to be recovered, but a new, beautifully sharp-edged line takes their place. It’s a glossy, black brushstroke of a division, and it declares, “Wowkwan is for work; do your work well. Sehyoon and Byeongkwan at home are Sehyoon and Byeongkwan – and nothing further.” 

Sehyoon wonders what fans would think if they realized that his confidence in acting like Byeongkwan’s romantic half is so strong these days specifically because he no longer worries about whether it could be true in his real, inner life. 

Not that he has his real, inner life completely figured out. Every now and then some whisper of a thought snags on the back of his mind – but by the time he notices it, the whisper has dissolved into thin air, leaving only the faintest tinge of an echo. It feels, he thinks, the way his skin sometimes does after someone has lightly pressed a finger against him – awareness only striking as the touch is removed. 

But that’s a small concern. This new _Under Cover_ era, as far as Sehyoon is concerned, fucking rocks. And it’s not just because the track is commercially successful, though he’s not about to complain about that, either.

For one thing, having Channie back on stage with them – as well as his clear, amber-glass voice on the track – fills an intense void they all felt and never fully articulated, not even to each other. His presence on the world tour was, of course, extremely welcome, but music promotions are their own beast. His sunshine and laughter feel like essential nutrients to Sehyoon’s wellbeing. 

One night, after it’s finally begun to sink in that _Under Cover_ is a successful release, Donghun pounces on Chan. Literally pounces, like a leopard, from behind the sofa. Lee Donghun, human leopard, drags Kang Yuchan, unsuspecting cub, to the ground. They laugh hysterically, even as Channie squeals indignantly, demanding release from his hyung’s arms. Donghun flashes Sehyoon the briefest look of need, and Sehyoon flings himself onto the pile, helping to pin their hapless maknae to the floor. 

“You _will_ cuddle us now,” says Donghun, and it’s neither an order nor a question, but rather a simple statement of fact. Sehyoon’s heart warms at Donghun’s unhesitating use of _us_. Their oldest member somewhat notoriously demands affection for himself, and it doesn’t feel trivial to be included in that sentence. 

Chan only protests for a few moments, half-hearted grumbles sounding like token, whiney purrs. 

“Nope,” says Donghun. “Cuddle time.” 

And so… it is. 

Donghun, Sehyoon, and Channie spend the next few minutes or hours – Sehyoon’s not sure of much by the end of it, especially not the passage of time – simply cuddling. They occasionally talk nonsense as though they were drunk, but mostly they simply cuddle, piled into a human ball of affection. They pet each other’s hair and backs and give each other hand massages, until Chan starts to fall asleep between his elder members. His legs are draped over Donghun’s lap, and his head and upper body are tucked into Sehyoon’s side, and Sehyoon thinks he’s never looked more adorable. 

He and Donghun continue petting Channie, as though he were their child – or a toy that they, the two leopards, tackled, in order to restrain, to nuzzle, to paw – but never to hurt. 

When Sehyoon realizes Chan has fallen properly asleep, he looks at Donghun for guidance. He wants to shrug, but doing so would dislodge Chan from his side. 

Fortunately, Donghun seems to understand what he means by his expression alone. The vocalist gently maneuvers Chan’s legs to a different angle across his own and scoots in toward Sehyoon. They now support him together across their laps, leaning their shoulders against each other. 

“What now?” whispers Sehyoon. 

“We let him sleep,” answers Donghun, his low, raspy whisper a golden trill in Sehyoon’s ear. “It’s our fault he’s so tired.”

Sehyoon shivers a bit at the low, trilled whisper, and Chan shifts on his lap. 

“Don’t do that!” chides Donghun, and the renewed whisper nearly sets Sehyoon’s shivering reflex off again. 

“Do what?” he asks. 

“Don’t shiver!” whispers Donghun, and Sehyoon could nearly cry with frustration from the physical effort required to stay still. “It’ll wake him up.”

“Then stop whispering in my ear!” Sehyoon tries to keep his own voice low, but he finds it difficult, for some reason. 

Donghun doesn’t whisper anything back, mercifully.

In the silence, Sehyoon rotates his head slowly, slightly to the side, to better see Donghun’s face – then does a double-take at the expression he finds there. 

Donghun’s face is unreadable but not… not neutral. Sehyoon can’t place it, not beyond the fact that his roommate’s eyes are focused intensely on his own face. 

Feeling suddenly a touch unsure about the intense eye contact, Sehyoon turns his gaze back to the maknae, whose breaths have gone steadier as he falls more deeply asleep. 

They sit like this for another seemingly infinite stretch of time, shoulder to shoulder, faintly snoring boy draped peacefully across their laps, until finally Byeongkwan wanders into the room and asks, overly loud, “The hell is he sleeping like that for?” – which, naturally, wakes up the “he” in question. 

Chan stretches, groggy like a gangly wildcat cub, and stumbles to get ready for bed, followed out of the room by an amused Byeongkwan. 

Sehyoon and Donghun remain on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, still silent, as though careful not to dislodge the memory of their sleeping groupmate. 

“Are those two still out there, just sitting on the floor?” Junhee’s muffled voice drifts down the corridor. Sehyoon can’t make out the murmured reply.

Donghun evidently hears the chatter, also, because he shifts his shoulder away from Sehyoon’s, stands up slowly, and wordlessly goes to get ready for bed. 

They don’t speak again until the next morning. 

_____ 

“Sehni-hyung, you have to see this!” Chan’s cackles are even louder than Junhee’s giggles. The two are indulging in a bout of social media trawling, scrolling through Twitter and Instagram for Choice pictures and commentary. “People are _flipping out_ over your little stunt!” 

Sehyoon grins. He knows, without looking, that this must be about when he picked up Byeongkwan like a rag doll and just kinda… well, threw him around a bit. In front of cameras. A lot of cameras. It was fun! He likes feeling strong. He likes knowing that he’s a good performer. He’d do it again, in a heartbeat. 

Junhee looks thoughtful for a second. “You know, hyung, the only things people really say about you, aside from your skills onstage, I mean, are… well, almost everything is about you in relation to Kwannie – that or how you’re quiet, or artsy. Like, that’s about it. A few dribs and drabs of other things but really, it’s amazing how much the Wowkwan thing dominates your search results.”

“That’s not true!” says Channie. “There’s also– ” 

“Sehyoon thighs!” say Junhee and Chan, together, before erupting into renewed laughter. 

Sehyoon just smirks. “Don’t be jealous, my chicken-legged friends. What are people even saying about you, then?” 

“Still lots of The Unit chatter about Chan-ah,” says Junhee. 

“And kind of an uptick of Junhee and Donghun shipping. Dongjun, I guess?” adds Chan. 

“Why the hell would they think that makes sense as a couple?” asks Sehyoon. 

“ _Take Me Higher_ video?” Junhee suggests with a shrug. 

“But that was ages ago,” protests Sehyoon. “You said there’s an uptick.” 

Chan looks from Junhee to Sehyoon. “Maybe they just think it’s cute. I dunno. Why not? Why not Donghun and Junhee?” 

“What are you saying about me?” asks Donghun, walking into the living room. “I heard my name!” 

Junhee grins. “People shipping you and me together. Check this out – no, wait, this one!” He taps something on his phone, then passes the phone to Donghun, who giggles before handing it back to Junhee. 

“But that’s the weirdest ship ever!” Sehyoon hears himself protesting. 

There’s a pause as all three of them look at him. God, at least Byeongkwan is at the studio, rehearsing. 

“Who the hell cares?” asks Donghun. “By the amount and quality of sex they seem to think you’re having with Kwannie, I don’t know how they think he could still be walking, much less dancing.” 

“That’s different!” says Sehyoon, aware that he’s starting to sound a little ridiculous. “You know why they think that.” He turns his full, pointed attention toward Junhee. “ _You_ know why we started that in the first place.” 

Junhee flushes, and Sehyoon realizes he’s maybe overstepped a line, somewhere. “Sorry, Junhee. I just…” He stumbles for words that will dig him out of this hole. “I guess I don’t get the shipping thing in general.” 

Chan’s infectious laugh breaks the tension. “I do! I wanted two of the UNB members to hook up _so badly,_ you don’t even know.”

“Who?!” they all ask him. 

“I’m not telling!” Chan is firm, despite their protests. 

The conversation wanders to other topics; there’s no more discussion of shipping tonight. 

As Sehyoon makes himself a cup of tea, it occurs to him that it would be a very Chan-like thing to do to just… make up having shipped people, just to restore peace to the room and save Sehyoon’s pride. 

Save Sehyoon’s pride… from what, exactly? 

He shakes his head and focuses on his tea. 

_____ 

The first time Sehyoon decides he minds exploiting Wowkwan professionally is when the managers tell him he’ll need to dye his hair green, to turn into Joker opposite Byeongkwan’s version of Harley Quinn. 

Green hair. _Green hair._ He’s very open to all kinds of styling choices – even more so than the other members, not that any of them are shy in that sense – but green hair? 

Sehyoon simply has a feeling it’s going to look awful. 

That night, lying in in his cool, dark bed, he asks Donghun, “What if it looks horrible?” 

Donghun doesn’t answer. 

But Sehyoon can tell his roommate is awake. They’ve roomed together for long enough; he’s sure, absolutely sure. Donghun is awake; he’s just pretending to be asleep. He must just not want to talk about it. 

Sehyoon is suddenly struck by the thought that maybe Donghun isn’t answering because he thinks it’ll be horrible, and he doesn’t trust himself to put that diplomatically. 

He eventually falls asleep, dreaming that he’s floating in an expanse of green goo, Donghun scowling disapprovingly from the shores of the goo lake. 

When he wakes up, the memory of Donghun’s disappointed expression makes his blood run colder than the memory of the green goo itself. 

The real Donghun is his usual self, shifting from clingy to confident to funny – and all the way back, in a matter of minutes. 

Sehyoon doesn’t finish his breakfast. 

_____ 

Other than looking a bit like highlighter fluid, Sehyoon is startled to realize that the green hair isn’t terrible. It’s not his first choice, but it helps get him inside the right frame of mind for this comeback, as a performer. As Junhee puts it, Sehyoon goes into beast mode on the set of _Savage_ , and at least some part of that is due to the zany hair color. 

Still, he keeps leaking green dye all over his pillowcases. 

“How the fuck did you manage this when you had the neon red hair, Hun?” he asks his roommate, during the run-up to the release of the album. He stands next to his bed, refusing momentarily to actually climb into it.

It’s late at night, and his frustration is extraordinary. They’ve had an excruciatingly long day, and he just doesn’t have the emotional energy reserves to deal with this one, last thorn in his side.

“I just bought new pillowcases, dark ones.” 

“Seriously?!” 

“Yeah,” confirms Donghun. “Did you want to borrow one of the dark ones? But I think all my dark ones are in the laundry room. Clean, though.” 

Sehyoon hears the whine in his answer. “No! No, thank you. I just cannot handle digging through Junhee’s sweatshirts and Kwannie’s Patagonia shirts for a goddamn pillowcase right now. I’m just going to ruin another one of my own. Fuck it. Whatever. This is so ridiculous.” 

Donghun lets him vent. After a pause, he says, “The one on my pillow right now is dark. Sleep here.” 

Sehyoon breathes in and out, then reaches over to turn off the light, before climbing wordlessly into bed with Donghun. 

He presses himself against Donghun’s warm, reassuring back, drapes his arm across Donghun’s lean waist, and has just enough time to marvel at how sleeping with Donghun is impossibly, perfectly wonderful whether he’s the big _or_ little spoon, before sleep quickly pulls him under.

It’s only halfway through the next day that it occurs to him: a much more reasonable solution would have simply been to swap pillows, or pillowcases. 

It further occurs to him that he’s glad he didn’t think of this at the time. 

And with that thought, that single incriminating thought… Well, this time, he doesn’t need to collapse into a floral display to finally figure out his own goddamn brain.

He might be just the tiniest, tiniest bit fucked.

_____ 

It’s Channie who eventually suggests a solution, because of course it is. Sehyoon’s surprise level: zero. 

Chan and Sehyoon are in the dance rehearsal space together, the only ones left on this particular evening, a few nights before they leave for more international travel. 

They stop for a water break, then realize they both actually need to sit for a bit. 

Chan looks at him in a way Sehyoon has come to recognize; the filter is coming off, and whatever comes out of his mouth will be the real tea – the straight talk – the unvarnished truth, as he sees it. Never needlessly rude, just honest. 

“Are you in love with him, hyung?” he asks Sehyoon, completely without preface. 

Sehyoon doesn’t respond. He’s glad he’s already sweating – camouflage and all that. 

As if following his thoughts, Chan says, “I don’t know if it’s because of Wowkwan or whatever… you know, the smokescreen? But man, nobody suspected anything. I didn’t, anyway.” 

Now Sehyoon does feel the need to speak, because Channie is making it sound as though this had been a deliberate choice all along, instead of a confusing maelstrom, settling into his blood and bones over the course of years. “I didn’t even realize that’s what it was. The smokescreen wasn’t for me – not on purpose, anyway. I didn’t know.” 

Chan cocks his head, stretches his legs out in front of him, and looks at Sehyoon again. He nods. “You know what? I believe you. I don’t think any of the rest of us knew, either.” 

Sehyoon closes his eyes for a long moment, trying to gather his courage. “Do you think he knows?” 

“I have no idea,” says Chan. “But I think you’re asking the wrong question.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The real question I would be asking, if I were you, is: how does he feel?” 

Sehyoon sighs. “Are you about to tell me I should just ask him? Because I can’t. I know myself too well. I’ll tell myself that I’ll ask, but then I’ll never do it.” 

Chan laughs, not unkindly. “You know, he told me this story about you. He told me about it recently, when I guess you were having some sort of crisis about whether you’d look okay in green hair – ” (he _had_ been awake!) “ – but I guess it happened ages ago. He said you once told him you didn’t know yourself and were hoping for the world to tell you who you might be, on the inside.” 

Sehyoon doesn’t remember phrasing it quite like that, but… reading between the lines, it sounds accurate. 

“He got all misty looking and said he would be happy now to tell you who he thinks you are. But then,” Chan continues, “he suddenly refused to finish his thought, like he realized he spoke too soon, without considering how the sentence would end.” He pauses for a swig of water. “I know that’s not exactly conclusive, but… I think… I think you might be in luck.” 

Sehyoon has absolutely no idea how Chan has come to this conclusion based on that fragment of a conversation, but the boy’s instincts have usually been solidly placed. 

“So let’s say you’re right,” he says. “What now?” 

Channie’s eyes shift, going fully a-twinkle. “You know he loves attention.” 

“Hey, now! We all do!” 

Chan laughs again, louder this time. “Oh, my god, you really do have it bad. But we can agree he acts a little attention-starved sometimes, right?” 

“Fine. Sure.”

“Right, so, just do something special.” Chan laughs, then starts singing in his clear, strong tenor. “Baby, take me hiiiigher!!!”

It’s Sehyoon’s turn to burst into laughter. “Seriously, what?!” 

Chan smiles and shrugs. “Just take him higher, hyung. You’ll figure something out.” 

Sehyoon rolls his eyes – but then, replaying Chan’s silly singing, he knows exactly what he’s going to do. Byeongkwan will have to help, but… honestly, Kwannie fucking owes him.

Sehyoon will have to wait just the tiniest bit longer, but he’s gotten really, _really_ comfortable waiting.

_____ 

They were told that Seattle was a rainy city, but the experience of busking on the rough, rain-slicked, brick ground is one Sehyoon doesn’t ever think they’ll forget. He hopes the gathered crowd appreciates the difficulty of what he and the rest of A.C.E are doing. 

The feedback is everything Sehyoon wishes it might be; the students and bystanders welcome A.C.E with open arms and effusive praise. 

The group’s spirits remain high until it’s time to decide how to spend a rare patch of free time. 

“There’s an underground tour of Seattle,” says Byeongkwan. “They take you underneath the current downtown buildings, and you can see where the schools and banks and everything used to be. Even a brothel, I think!” 

Junhee and Channie are immediately on board with this plan, but Donghun makes a face. _Perfect._

“That’s not my kind of thing at all,” says Donghun. “With all the rain they’ve been having, it’s probably dark and damp and gross, don’t you think?” 

“Don’t be such a downer,” says Byeongkwan, unusually harsh. Sehyoon knows that Kwannie is fully aware how Donghun will react to this and mentally thanks his fellow dancer. 

“The hell was that for?” says Donghun. “Now I definitely don’t want to go! Just because I don’t want to go tunneling around like some kind of mole rat…”

Sehyoon chimes in, “Well, it’s not my thing, either. Let’s go to the Space Needle! It’s that crazy tall spire of a building we saw driving in. They have a glass floor and everything.” 

Chan frowns. “We would go there _on purpose?_ You know I’m afraid of heights.” 

“I’ll take care of you, Channie,” offers Byeongkwan, voice sugary sweet. “Come with me and Junhee on this underground tour, and I’ll buy you dinner.” 

“Wait, I’m going on the underground tour?” Junhee asks. “What if I want to go to the Space Needle?” 

“I claimed you first! You’re on Team Kim Byeongkwan!” God bless Kwannie. He’s really giving this his all.

Junhee shrugs. “Okay, well… it does sound like fun. Fine. Let’s just split up. Channie and I will go with Kwan, pretend to be badgers or whatever, underground. You two –” he indicates Sehyoon and Donghun “– go to the Space Needle.” 

The glass-floored observatory level of the Seattle Space Needle is even more incredible than Sehyoon had hoped it might be, and Donghun has always delighted in heights. 

The overcast mists hanging over the city have cleared a bit, just enough that when Sehyoon and Donghun stand on the glass and look down, they can see the city in fine, surreal resolution, hundreds and hundreds of meters below their feet. It looks like a simulation – a video game of a city, almost. The city, there on the ground, is the illusion, and this glass-floored room is reality: a literal sky, a heaven, and Sehyoon is here with the man he loves.

Sehyoon takes Donghun’s hand in his own. 

They’ve touched before. Just a few times. Once… or twice… or literally _thousands_ of times, over the course of years. 

It should be routine.

But now, here, simply intertwining his fingers with Donghun’s, Sehyoon feels electricity prickling crazily in every cell in his body. The sensation is strongest where their skin touches, then races along inside Sehyoon’s nerves to poke tiny little electrical impulses against his heart. 

Donghun leans over and rests his head against Sehyoon’s shoulder. “Did you bring me here to kiss me?” he asks, in a low, golden, trill of a whisper. 

Sehyoon shivers. “Yes.” 

But Donghun beats him to it, gently pressing his lips – good _lord_ they’re soft – against Sehyoon’s, and then Sehyoon is floating – floating – floating in space, feet above nothing, heart in the air, soul somewhere above him, he thinks, maybe, sort of, not that he can think much about anything – 

Not with Donghun’s kiss, its impact sinking well past the surface of their lips, shockwaves traveling down to meet the electricity sparking from their still-joined hands. 

Sehyoon doesn’t just want to remember this moment forever, he wants to _become_ the moment – to be a love returned as whole, as pure in its expression as it flows from his own heart. 

He kisses Donghun just a touch harder, feeling his lower lip tense, wondering what would happen if they opened their mouths just a little bit, just a – 

“Umm, excuse me,” says a tourist. “Do you mind maybe scooting out of the way while you do that? I’m trying to get a picture.” 

Sehyoon and Donghun pretend not to understand the English but move aside all the same, suddenly completely unable to let go of each other for even a fraction of a second. 

They ignore the alerts on their phones until the buzzing and beeping noises finally cease; no doubt the other A.C.E members have finally figured it out. Not that Sehyoon begrudges them a certain slowness tonight… not given his own slowness about it all. 

And it, whatever they’re going to call it, is perfect, and perfectly worth the wait. 

A Space Needle staff member asks whether they would like a table for two in the revolving restaurant. They say yes, of course. 

Sehyoon spies a stack of paper placemats and asks for a spare, which the restaurant host happily provides, along with a few crayons normally dispensed to children. 

They know each other too well to feel awkward about the silence that fills most of their dinner. Talking in itself is completely extraneous right now. Instead, they let their feet and ankles intertwine under the table, letting the parts of themselves that have suffered in loneliness for such a long time finally begin to communicate properly with each other. 

Above the table, Sehyoon scribbles on his paper placemat, and Donghun doesn’t interrupt or ask him what he’s doing, instead sipping on his beer and watching the city spin languorously around them.

Sehyoon wonders, as they share a dessert, why his head doesn’t feel more like it’s spinning. He finally decides that as long as they’re here, in this castle in the clouds, the revolving restaurant is counteracting any revolutions in his own mind. 

It’s back on the ground that he’ll have to be careful, watching his feet, heart, and mind, making sure to spot the corners of their room to avoid getting dizzy. 

He’s a dancer, though. He was born ready.

Walking back to the hotel, hands once more intertwined, Sehyoon reluctantly untangles his fingers, scrambling to fish the folded placemat out of his jacket. He hands it to Donghun. 

“Should I look at this now?” asks Donghun, and Sehyoon loves him for asking instead of assuming. 

“It’s up to you,” he says. “But maybe… maybe save it until you think you need it.” 

“What is it?” asks Donghun. 

“A map. To me.” Sehyoon hesitates, wondering whether this is too silly, or whether Donghun will even remember. “Just like you asked me, once.” 

Donghun kisses him – but this time, with tongue, with teeth, with hunger. 

This time, they’re on the ground. And this time, Sehyoon’s head spins. 

_____ 

**Epilogue**

Sehyoon and Donghun are tangled together on the sofa, listening to Junhee’s latest social media reports. 

“Sehni-hyung, some fan is super obsessed with your purple shirt on the beach,” Junhee says, scrolling through YouTube comments. 

“Okay, but did you see him in it? Totally fair observation!” says Donghun. Sehyoon nuzzles his shoulder in appreciation.

Byeongkwan makes a gagging noise. “You two are sickening.” 

Channie laughs. “Better than if they fought all the time. Some groups are like that.” 

“We would never,” says Junhee, momentarily confused, his attention clearly divided by his phone and the conversation happening in the room. “Wait, who’s fighting?” 

“Don’t worry about it, Junhee,” says Chan. 

But Junhee’s concern is evident. He looks at the tangle of Donghun and Sehyoon. “Are you two fighting?” His confusion is apparent. 

“Only if it means we get to have hot make-up sex afterward,” says Donghun. 

“MY EARS!” protests Kwan. 

“You have no room to speak!” says Sehyoon. “You once told me what a good fuck Junhee is!” 

“Wait, what?!” Junhee’s face goes beet red, and Byeongkwan has the grace to look embarrassed. 

Chan can’t speak, too busy laughing himself to tears. 

“Why are you all like this?” asks Donghun. 

“As if you weren’t the one who started it…?!” yelps Byeongkwan, lobbing a pillow at the vocalist’s face. 

The room descends into chaos, pillows and blankets flying. A window covering is caught in the crossfire and tears slightly; oops. That’ll take some explaining away to management. 

At last, they all lie on the floor, breathless and giggling. 

Sehyoon tilts his head toward Donghun’s. “We can still have pretend make-up sex, later,” he whispers. 

Not quietly enough, apparently, because Channie says, “Okaayyyyy, I think we’re all done here.” He stands up, and the rest follow, groaning as they attempt to set the room straight. 

Sehyoon can’t stop giggling about it as he washes his face and brushes his teeth. 

He climbs into bed with Donghun, who wraps him in his arms, emanating warmth, comfort, and sheer, unadulterated love. It grounds him. 

Good thing, too, because when he stops to pay attention, Sehyoon feels the distant echo of Seattle’s bricked streets under his feet, revolving faintly in the tiniest internal wobble. 

Since the first time he kissed Donghun, his head has simply never stopped spinning. 

It’s fucking _spectacular._

**Author's Note:**

> In theory, I’m supposed to be on a break from writing fanfic – but I just missed it too much! 
> 
> The new plan is to reward any progress I make on my Real Project with fic-writing breaks. As my long-suffering friend and beta reader can confirm, I went from “maybe I should just let myself write fanfic sometimes” to “here is my rough outline for a Sehyoon-centric oneshot” in less than five minutes.
> 
> Looks like you’re stuck with me. 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/WeUsTessa)


End file.
